Poetry Friday

Puck prepares for the fairy blessings of the three weddings. The blessings will banish all threats to the lover’s happiness.

Now the hungry lion roars,And the wolf behowls the moon;Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,All with weary task fordone.Now the wasted brands do glow,Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,Puts the wretch that lies in woeIn remembrance of a shroud.Now it is the time of nightThat the graves all gaping wide,Every one lets forth his sprite,In the church-way paths to glide:And we fairies, that do runBy the triple Hecate’s team,From the presence of the sun,Following darkness like a dream,Now are frolic: not a mouseShall disturb this hallow’d house:I am sent with broom before,To sweep the dust behind the door.